


Eternity

by Cat_Moon



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Character Death Fix, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 09:37:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19331923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Cat_Moon
Summary: Avon never expected the afterlife to be quite like this... he never expected Blake to be there, either.  Is there more to this than meets the eye?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Published in the B7 zine, “Songs of Experience.” 1994.

_And I know that I'm damned if I never get out_

_And maybe I'm damned if I do_

_But with every other beat I got left in my heart_

_You know I'd rather be damned with you_

_If I gotta be damned, you know I wanna be damned_

_Dancing through the night with you... *_

 

Darkness descended around him, through him, like a black molten lava, melting his body, burning into his soul. He welcomed the maelstrom as his due. Finally.

Finally...

Expecting no more but a ceasing of everything, he was surprised when the blackness lifted. In its place was a white haze, swirling around him in eddies. It was quiet, peaceful. Odd, he hadn't imagined it would be like this. He stayed still, waiting to see what would happen next. Time passed, unmarked. A minute--an hour? Or did time even exist here?

Waiting...

And the fog lifted, too.

"You didn't have to kill me, you know." The voice reached his ears, with its usual lilt and touch of amusement. He saw that face, before him.

_Blake_.

Images swam before his eyes, blinding in their stark horror. Gauda Prime. It all came crashing down on him, suffocating him under its weight. And he wished he was dead.

"Wait a minute, I _am_ dead," Avon said aloud. He stared at Blake. "So are you," he added quietly, beginning to doubt his sanity. A breeze blew coldly across his empty soul. _A little late for doubting, isn't it?_ it whispered.

"Yes, dead," Blake replied to his statement in a quiet voice. "And you should know."

Avon flinched away from the remembered images which wanted to haunt him, the ones he'd craved death in order to avoid. "I don't believe in heaven," he said firmly, focusing on the trivial matter of their surroundings.

Blake's laugh sounded genuine. "And surely you never expected to end up there, in any case." His next words vanquished the amusement. "I'll tell you a secret. Neither do I."

Avon leaned forward, somehow finding the strength to meet his victim's familiar brown eyes. He imagined he saw no accusation, only a deep sadness. "Am I in hell, with you?"

"We've always been damned together, you and I," Blake answered in a voice which shook slightly from emotion. "You know that. You've always known."

"Yes." One word, almost a vow.

"Still," the former rebel began in a lighter tone, "I somehow didn't expect it to end like this."

Avon shivered. Should a dead person feel cold? "I did," he said hollowly. "Somehow."

_I always thought that his death and mine might be linked in some way..._

"Have you anything to say for yourself, Avon?" Blake's spirit asked him in quiet earnest.

"Before you condemn me? I've been so since the first time we met."

"As I already said," Blake acknowledged with a nod of his head.

"Then what more is there to say?"

Blake turned from him, started to walk away.

"Wait--don't leave me!" Avon cried, falling to his knees.

_I want to be free of him..._

Lies, all lies. And the truth came too late. Or was it always too late?

Blake stopped and turned towards him again, but didn't speak.

"You're going to make me say it, aren't you?" Avon whispered.

Blake shook his head sadly. "I thought you might've wanted to clear the air...finally, now. For eternity."

"I'm sorry! Is that what you want me to say?" Blake remained cruelly silent. "I was quite mad, you know."

"Is that why you killed me?"

Avon raised his head with his last shred of pride. "That's why I loved you." The voice was devoid of its old caustic bite, though, almost weary.

A shift in Blake's face, a hint of the wound. "Death hasn't changed you, Avon," he noted. "Neither yours nor mine."

"It's too late for me."

Blake hesitated, then moved closer and crouched beside Avon, who was still on his knees in the mist. "It hasn't made me any smarter either. I still don't know what to do with you."

"You could've loved me," Avon found his traitorous mouth forming the forbidden words. But what difference did it make, now?

Blake's momentary silence was heavy with realization and regret. "I did love you. Something you could never believe."

"You loved your precious bloody Cause!" Avon yelled, floodgates opening. "You were killing me slowly, and you never cared! Never even noticed!"

"I'm sorry. You should have told me."

"If you really loved me--"

"No," Blake said, lifting Avon's chin up roughly. "Games, that's all you played. You were never honest with me."

Avon collapsed onto the ground limply. "Honest?" he laughed, bitterly. "It wouldn't have mattered, nothing did."

"What wouldn't have mattered?" Blake pressed.

"That I loved you," Avon finally replied, defeated.

Blake sat beside him on the ground. "You accused me of not trusting you. Yet it was you who wouldn't trust me. I wouldn't have hurt you, Avon."

Such pretty words. "I wish I could believe that," Avon murmured in a dead tone. "I really wish..." He had, once.

 

_Couldn't you bring yourself to trust me, just this once?_

_Avon, for what it's worth, I have always trusted you--from the very beginning._

 

And were had it gotten him--were had it gotten them?

"Do you want to trust me?" Blake asked.

"You left me," Avon blurted out with a wealth of feeling.

"I gave you what you wanted. The Liberator--and to be free of me."

"No," Avon whimpered. "I could never be free of you. Not even now, in death."

"Then why did you fight it? Fight me?"

"I've answered that question already. Nothing would have mattered."

"You're wrong, Avon."

"So you always say."

"My pessimist," Blake murmured, almost fondly.

"Why are you haunting me? Is this my punishment? To be haunted by the man I murdered?"

"I didn't betray you." Typical Blake, changing the subject, not answering a question unless it suited him.

Avon found the ghost of his former cold smile. "Well, perhaps in the future you'll be more eloquent in your own defense."

"I thought you'd understand."

 

_I was waiting for you._

 

"Were you really waiting for me?" Avon damned the pathetic hope in his voice.

"Yes," Blake said through a sigh. "When I heard you went on fighting my rebellion..." he trailed off without finishing the thought. "I knew it had to be you, though, to come to me. Your choice, Avon. Always."

"If I had chosen to be truthful, I would have been doomed," he admitted in a flat tone.

"As opposed to how well things turned out otherwise," Blake said with wry humor.

"It appears I was wrong...about everything."

"I didn't fare much better, without you."

The smile again, a small spark of humor igniting in what he'd thought was his dead soul. "I noticed."

"I missed you so badly," Blake suddenly said, in a choked voice. "Needed you so..."

Avon was silent briefly, trying to marshal his thoughts, not quite knowing what to say next. "For your Cause?" he finally blurted, wondering if he was repeating his mistakes.

"For my soul," Blake answered. "It wasn't just you, I confess. I was also afraid. Afraid to tell you...I loved you."

"I wouldn't have believed you," Avon said honestly. "I would have been too afraid."

"Do you believe me now?"

"I've got nothing left to lose. But can you love the man who murdered you?"

"If you can love the man who hurt you so badly. I'd never betray you," Blake repeated. "Not you."

Avon got to his knees again, anguish in his voice. "Forgive me, Roj, please..." he sobbed, as he'd wanted to do ever since the truth broke into his insanity. When it was too late, and he'd destroyed them both.

"This is the first time you ever called me Roj," Blake said, sounding vaguely pleased.

Avon felt annoyed with Blake's trivialities. Nevertheless, he continued with his final chance at redemption. "I would never have lived without you. I welcomed death. Never imagined I'd have to hurt still. I want it to end!" he growled demandingly, even while a chill of doubt assailed him. He'd said similar words before, and regretted it...until the day he'd died.

"You have to end it yourself. I don't hate you. Now you've got to forgive yourself."

"I killed you," Avon breathed as the shock-wave washed over him anew. Part of him had known, the other part could not believe that he'd destroyed the one thing...

"Neither of us handled the situation particularly well," Blake said, with a hint of a smile.

Seeing the humor in that, Avon echoed it. For a few moments, they both shared the remembered irony. "Perhaps we can...start over," Avon began tentatively.

The huge smile he got in return was worth it. "I definitely think that can be arranged."

"Will we be together in eternity?" Avon asked, never stopping to wonder why he assumed Blake should automatically know more about death than he. Deferring to him, as he always had before.

"If you wish."

"As we never were in life..." Avon murmured.

"But should have been," Blake agreed softly.

An old question occurred to him, piquing his innate curiosity. "Blake, if we're not in heaven, and not in hell, where are we?"

"The realm of dreams, my love." Blake held out his hand. After a moment's hesitation, Avon grasped it.

"Eternity," he vowed.

 

* Bat Out of Hell. Recorded by Meatloaf/written by Jim Steinman. 1977.

 

7/11/94

 

 

 


	2. It Don't Come Easy

_I don't ask for much, I only want trust_

_And you know it don't come easy_

_And this love of mine keeps growing all the time_

_And you know it just ain't easy... *_

 

 

Eternity...

The sound, once unbearable, now filled Avon with an intense yearning.

The fingers in his tightened. "Will you come with me, Avon? Do you trust me enough?" Blake implored, rising to his feet.

Avon let himself be pulled up too, but hesitantly.

"Come with me, Avon," Blake's softly caressing voice coaxed. "Come back to me."

Then he was moving through the mist, gliding on the silken threads created by Blake's voice. Up through the fog, and the darkness.

"Come with me, Avon," Blake continued to croon, guiding the way.

"Open your eyes."

And Avon obeyed.

He blinked, bright light searing into his consciousness. Blake's face, worried and hopeful, hovered over him. Attached to a very real body, sitting in a completely normal, non-ethereal chair.

Something was very wrong.

"What's going on?" he asked in a voice that sounded more rusty to his ears than it had moments ago.

As Blake's features dissolved in relief, Avon's eyes darted to his surroundings. He was in what looked suspiciously like the medical section of a ship. He could feel the bed beneath him now, hear the faint throb of the engines. Then he caught a glimmer of something ominously familiar by his bed. He almost gasped in shock, sitting up and backing away from Blake in panic and he recognized the equipment.

It was what the Federation used for mind control.

Blake's gaze had followed his; hands were on his shoulder, gripping firmly. "It's okay, Avon. You're safe--everyone is safe."

"Safe?" he snapped caustically, glaring at the evidence with disgust. "Do you think I'm stupid? I know what that's for."

"Trust me."

A bark--both laughter and sob--escaped his lips, loud in the quiet room. Wild eyes snared Blake.

"We're among friends," Blake assured him quickly and calmly. "I didn't want to burden you with all of this at once--"

"You'd better burden me," Avon interrupted severely.

"Are you at least going to give me a chance to explain this time, before you shoot me?"

Always hovering near, the dream image came crashing down on Avon again. He reached out tentatively, touching Blake's chest. "Was it real?" he whispered in barely-disguised terror.

The answer was in Blake's eyes. He grasped Avon's hand in one of his, the other pushing open the shirt he wore. The scar from a single wound marred the smooth chest; angry, accusing pink. But far too little damage, surely...

Avon's eyes widened at the implications. "I shot you--"

"Once. The ship was standing by, so they were able to provide medical treatment in plenty of time. If they hadn't been..." Blake said meaningfully, but with what appeared to be a trace of regret for his honesty.

"What have you done to my mind?" Avon snarled dangerously.

Blake sighed in exasperation. "Nothing, you stupid sod! You did it all quite nicely yourself. Now let me finish," he commanded in the voice that no one--not even Avon--had ever dared ignore. "After you shot me, one of my people subdued you. It wasn't difficult, because you...just stood there, frozen, staring down at me until they dragged you away," he said, visibly shivering. "They got us all to safety on the ship and patched me up. But you wouldn't come out of it...never spoke a word or acted as if you were aware of anything around you.

"How long?"

"It's been a week." Blake rubbed his face, and for the first time, Avon noticed how drawn and exhausted he looked. Saw the worry that still lingered in his bloodshot eyes.

But he still had answers to demand. "What about this?" Avon asked in a hard voice, gesturing at the vile machine.

Sadness darkened Blake's gaze momentarily, then changed to alarm in response to Avon's altered expression. He gripped harder. "We had no choice," he began.

"Dammit, Blake--" If he had a gun, he thought he just might shoot the insufferable man again, in anger at his repeated stupidity.

"It's not what you think!" Blake yelled immediately, apparently realizing he was making the same mistake he had on Gauda Prime. "No one tampered with your mind, I swear it. Nothing was planted or erased. They just used it with your mind, to create a safe environment for you. So I could reach you, talk to you. It was the only way," he cried. "You thought I was dead, that you were dead, and you wouldn't come out of it!"

Avon sat very still, so many emotions boiling inside that he couldn't pick one to focus on. Was he to believe Blake's version of reality? He could appreciate the necessity, if Blake told the truth, but there were so many things wrong with his hasty explanation.

_Trust me._

He shuddered.

Blake's hand reached out, touching his face. "I'll prove it to you, if you give me a chance. Time will prove it."

_Eternity_.

"Do you know what you're asking?" Avon said in a sibilant whisper. Everything in him screamed to put the force walls up before it was too late, arm neutron blasters for firing. If his previous insanity wasn't enough, now everything he thought, felt and remembered was suspect. Unless...he trusted Blake's truth.

"Do you think I could do something like that to you? After what they did to me?" Blake argued, with the same old passionate vehemence.

The total enormity of it staggered Avon, left him gasping for breath. He couldn't be less ready to have this thrust on him. On the other hand, left to his own devises, he'd probably never be ready. And he'd missed so many chances already.

Blake's voice filtered through the rushing in his ears. "It was the only way to reach you, get you out of the hell you'd imprisoned yourself in." He continued in a softer tone. "It was real enough, our conversation...the words, Avon, the words were real."

Eyes widened at the latest in a series of shocks--he wondered how many he could take.

"I know it was risky, and I know it's a lot to deal with in your state," Blake continued.

"Bargaining with my life again?" he asked with his former, acid tongue. Ah, the joyful relief of being able to recognize himself again.

"Don't." Blake's eyes were very shiny. His whole posture screamed out to him, and abruptly, Avon realized the man who sat before him was startlingly devoid of defenses. "I'm begging you."

"For what?" Avon asked sharply.

There was a long pause, a swallow. "Just get better."

So honest, naive. Avon found a small but genuine smile. "Still haven't learned, have you, Blake? Still trying to bully the very elements of the universe to do your bidding?" Hoping, surely they hadn't lost so much that Blake wouldn't see his sincere and gentle humor for what it was.

"Some things never change, I suppose," Blake said mildly.

"Were the words true?" Avon found himself asking casually, as if his life didn't depend on the answer.

A sunny smile broke out on Blake's face, his eyes growing wetter. Melting Avon's soul. "Yes. I love you."

Avon closed his eyes against the overwhelming emotions, swallowing. When he felt the touch of lips on his, something crumbled. With more than a little amazement, he found himself kissing back without hesitation.

He remembered asking Blake where they were, heaven or hell. It occurred to the cynic curled inside him that this might very well be hell.

_Trust_. The word whispered repeatedly though him, like a soft breeze on a barren planet. He was tired of fighting. Did he have anything left to lose?

Only Blake.

Avon's arms pulled Blake closer, holding on in desperation. The rest of the words came back to him, and they were all true.

"Blake, please," he breathed in a ragged voice, tightening his hold convulsively. It was over. His surrender would be unconditional. Unavoidable. Heart-breakingly, gut-wrenchingly beautiful. When Blake slid onto the bed and took him into his arms, he thought he might die there.

"It's okay, it'll be all right, Avon. Kerr..."

Blake was there holding him, rocking him and murmuring reassurances while the universe spun around him. Blake's presence seeped into the very core of his being. "I know what I'm asking," he said gravely.

Trust. Maybe such a small thing? Blake, asking Avon to get well, to accept his love. Were they such terrible things compared to the lonely exile of his soul?

"Trust carries certain responsibilities," Avon forced himself to strike a last ditch blow for self-preservation.

"If you'll let me."

Avon looked into that beloved face. Remarkably, the wetness was from tears. Had he ever seen Blake cry before? No. Knowledge filled him with a blazing hope. "I dare you," he replied, eyes glittering.

"To prove you right?" Blake asked.

"To prove me wrong. But then, you've never been a gambling man, have you?"

"On the contrary, Avon. I took the biggest gamble in the universe. On you."

"And lost," he said sadly, tracing the scar on the beloved face with trembling fingers.

Blake brought the fingers to his mouth and kissed them, so gently. "It's not over yet. And if I lose, I've still won."

Won me, he acknowledged with bold abandon. "Yes, a long time ago."

"It's worth it."

"I always did say you were a fool," Avon teased, feeling lightheaded.

"For you?"

"That, too. Something we have in common, I'm afraid."

"Are you afraid?" Blake questioned seriously.

Avon didn't have to answer. It should have been obvious. "Yes," he said.

"Things will be different this time, you'll see. I promise you, on my life."

"Probably," Avon agreed, not quite knowing to which statement.

Hope. A fragile thread binding him to sanity. To Roj Blake.

For eternity.

 

 

_Open up your heart_

_Let's come together_

_Use a little love_

_And we will make it work out better_

_I don't ask for much, I only want trust... *_

 

 

THE END

7/11/94

*It Don't Come Easy, by Ringo Starr.

 

 

 


End file.
